Engraved Love
by NotAnExit
Summary: Her head started spinning, it was everywhere. But why did mere writing on a desk have such an effect on her? And suddenly she knew he was the only one for her. And none of those loony girls knew him like she did! None of them could love him like she did!


As a continuation of my goal of writing a fanfiction of every ship in the Harry Potter series, here this is! The funny thing is, I wrote this right before the movie came out in theatres, and I'm posting this right before it comes out on home video! :)  


DISCLAIMER-I do not own Harry Potter.  


Engraved Love  
A Harry Potter fanfiction produced by Kourtney Megumi.  


---------------------------------  


Hermione paused from her hard labor for a minute and gave a long, dramatic sigh.  
Oh the joy of serving detention – again.  
Last time she received one she swore (a pretty loudly swear at that) and promised to the heavens that whatever mischief her two gitty mates thought up next time she would keep a straight head and refuse to go.  
Wiping the sweat from her forehead, her brown eyes made a quick roll in their sockets.  
That promise was made just yesterday.  
But how could she resist those emerald eyes? the lopsided smile? the tuffs of his jet black hair?  
So she agreed to the mischief, but the trio had gotten caught – again.  
Flich dragged them down to Professor McGonagal's office, Mrs. Norris trailing behind them cheerfully, her head high.  
Hermione had to fight the sudden temptation to call trusty Crookshanks and have him pounce on the lamp eyed cat on the spot.  
A high shrill of a throat clearing broke her out of reverie. Snapping her head full of hair up in a fury, she realized that Professor Flitwick was standing very close by, glaring and tapping his tiny foot at her. Grabbing the tarred rag, she turned and made her way to the next row of desks, mouth dropping in amazement to what she saw in front of her.  
There, carved into the desk in girlish scratchings were the words that she couldn't have spoken better herself.  
_I love Harry J. Potter._  


Reading the sentence over again a strange wave of hysteria washed through her body. She clutched the rag in a pale hand and started scrubbing furiously at the indent.  
The wood was practically gleaming when she stopped, but the phrase was blurred only a little.  
Finally giving up, she moved to wash the next desk.  
Hermione almost passed out in defeat when she glimpsed at the next wooden structure. For there someone had carved over the old '_Prongs and Lily 4ever_' and '_Cho 3's Cedric_' –   


_Me and Harry forever!_  


It made Hermione cringe in disgust, and not only from the horrid grammar.  
Curiously, she made her way to other seats, looking over the tabletops.  
Her head started spinning, it was everywhere. But why did mere writing on a desk have such an effect on her?  
And suddenly she knew he was the only one for her.  
And none of those loony girls knew him like she did!  
None of them could love him like she did!  
Madly scrambling through the room, faithful rag in hand, she scrubbed till she could scrub no more.  
Nearly collapsing, she sat herself down in the last seat. It took a minute or two for her to organize her thoughts and calm her hard panting.  
Sliding her hands over the long surface she sighed. Bringing her gaze to the clock, Hermione noticed that she still had five minutes until her release.  
Meanwhile her hand brushed over an unfamiliar dent in the mahogany.  
She brought her head down curiously, a wondering expression written on her face.  
Again, she strummed her fingertips over the unfinished handiwork felling it as if she was blind.  


_I love He_-  


  


Hemione's eyes widened in surprise, fingers grasping at the beginning of an unfinished 'r'.  
Was it true? Did one of the daily occupants of this seat really love Hermione Granger?  
But alas, a sickle part of her mind reasoned, why would any boy fall for puffy-hair-know-it-all Hermione?  
How many names began with those letters? She couldn't think of a few, but her mind was still in denial.  
Suddenly the door swung open and Professor Filtwick stepped in, signaling the finish of her detention.  
"Miss Granger, you are free to go now."  
Hermione gave another long gaze down at the desk in front of her. How ironic, when she first made her way into the Charms room that evening, she would have even hugged Snape in desperation if that would have granted her freedom, but now she was hesitant to go.  
Who could this admirer be?  
'_But wait_,' a reasonable voice stated in her mind. '_You don't even know if that name's yours_.'  


Meanwhile another voice was naming the possibilities.  
'_Who sits here?_'  
'_Did Viktor ever come into the Charms Room?_'  
'_No, he would have spelled my name 'Herm-own-ninny'._'  


Her thoughts where further interrupted by the entrance door to the classroom swinging open and Ron hurrying in, followed close behind by Harry.  
"Hermione, what are doing sitting there? Come on, detention's over, and Harry and I want to try some of the Dungbombs we just bought at Hogsmeade!" Exclaimed Ron, obviously rejoicing that he had been released from cleaning trophies with Filch again.  
"I-if it's fine with you letting Hermione go of course, Professor," said Harry, taking a more reasonable approach than his best red headed friend did. Harry gave a glance towards Hermione with a – she blinked in surprise – he looked frightened!  
Shrugging it off, Hermione decided that after being stuck polishing Snape's jars containing who-knows-what, she'd look petrified too.  
Only when she had pulled her hand from the desk's smooth surface did she remember what was carved on it.  
Looking back at Ron, who now had his arms crossed and was tapping his sneakered foot in irritation, she made a quick plan in her head and rushed out with Ron and Harry; giving a farewell to Flitwick before she left.  


***  


Stepping into the Charms classroom the next day, Hermione made a quick run-through of the plan in her head.  
She had gotten there extra early, set her books, parchment, and pen in place so she could watch the door with a penetrating stare.  
It didn't open.  


Time went on and on and she was about to start questioning herself on why she was so hung up on this when-  
The door swung open.  
A various amount of Gryffindors came through and Hermione watched each one place themselves in their respected seats.  
The last one was still empty.  
Again the door swung open to let a bunch through and again, and again.  
The seat was still unoccupied.  
As the talking and conversations grew around her, Hermione made a mental list of the people in this hour whom where in the running.  


_Dean – no.  
__Seamus – no.  
__Ron – not in attendance yet.  
__Harry – not in attendance yet.  
_

Her attention was distracted as Lavender and Parvarti burst through the doors laughing and giggling all the way.  
They took the seats next to Hermione, and tried to get information out of her about the (what they referred to him as) 'hunky' Viktor Krum.  
But Hermione wasn't in a very talkative mood at the moment because just then the door was pushed a side again, and Ron and Harry came through.  
Hermione felt her heart jump to her throat as she watched Harry make his way towards that desk and-  
Walk past it three more to sit next to Seamus Finnigan.  
She felt nauseous, like her stomach was doing all kinds of twists and turns. She had an urge to cry but yell at the same time. Her head started spinning in confusion at the feelings.  
Ah, the luxuries of adolescence.  
She began to fight back though, to clam the ragging lump in her throat.  
_But what was I thinking? Harry and I are good friends, nothing more._  
  
Regaining her self-control, she took a deep breath and started to re-read the day's Daily Prophet. She smiled a little at herself; it felt so good to have control of her feelings again.  
But little did she know she should have enjoyed that pride for a little bit longer.  
For when she glanced up, Neville Longbottom was placing himself in the last desk.  
She needed to do something pleasant, fast, before she did something horrible.  
To smile, laugh, or 'hoot' for joy, all failed.  
Hermione had never realized what grief could come out of being incapable of smiles.  
But thankfully Professor Flitwick had already made his way to his stack of books, and was beginning the lesson.  
And for a moment or two in time, Hermione forgot all her worries.  


------------------------  


After the lecture had ended, Hermione staggered behind for awhile, collecting her books and double-checking that she had written the assignment down correctly.  
She was about to go join Ron and wait for Harry to stand up from his desk (he was writing something furiously down in on his parchment) when Professor Flitwick wandered over to praise her on her performance in class today.  
By the time he had finished, all the rest of her peers except Ron and Harry had retreated.  
She hurried her way over to the door where Ron was waiting, looking more than a little annoyed.  
Coming in about a yard to the doorway Hermione was surprised when Ron headed down a row of desks, mumbling something that sounded like "-arry's always so slow."  
But Hermione was in for a bigger surprise when they walked right past the emerald-eyed boy's vacant desk.  
They walked right past it and three others to Neville's seat.  
"Harry?" Ron asked in some tone between annoyance and confusion.  
Harry was slunched down over the desktop, and he must have been very unaware of his friends' presence because he jumped up in the air with Sirius's knife at the sound of the young Weasley's voice.  
"What were you doing?" the redhead screeched as Harry tried to hide the weapon.  
But suddenly it all clicked in Hermione's mind. That knife wasn't really being used as a weapon.  
"Harry?" she asked him in confirmation, brown eyes skimming over a newly finished 'rmoine'.  
His eyes flashed and a flush covered his cheeks. "I guess I've been caught red handed."  
Although Hermione thought Harry should be thoroughly embarrassed, he smiled sheepishly.  
And she returned the grin, wanting to jump down every single stair to the Entrance Hall, run out the doors and proclaim that - she loved Harry James Potter, and he even loved her back, at least that's what he wrote on the desktop – to the entire universe.  
Oh the joys of finding you can smile again.  
Meanwhile, Ron Weasley glanced back and forth between his two best friends gazing longingly into each other's eyes.  
"Did I miss something here?"


End file.
